


In Blood, Power

by pristineungift



Category: Legend of the Seeker, True Blood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dark, Drama, Kink Meme, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 23:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristineungift/pseuds/pristineungift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the seeker_kinkmeme prompt, “Darken Rahl/Eric Northman (crossover with Tru Blood), bloodplay, fight for dominance.” A representative of the Dark Folk of the North comes to the People’s Palace to treat with Lord Rahl. He is Eric the Northman, Eric the Ruthless, some say the Companion of Death. But then… Darken Rahl is a blood mage, and the Keeper’s Right Hand. Darken Rahl/Eric Northman.</p><p>You should be able to follow the story so long as you know one of the fandoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Blood, Power

“Lord Rahl, the delegate from the Dark Tribes of the North has arrived.”

“Send him in, Egremont. Then leave us. I expect these negotiations to be… delicate.”

Egremont bowed, clicking the heels of his boots together in salute, “My lord.”

Darken arranged himself on his throne, draping his sleeves artfully over the arms of the great stone chair and surreptitiously running one finger along the hilt of the dagger he wore at his belt. If Eric the Northman was everything the tales said he was, Darken might need his dagger before the night was out.

The door at the end of Darken’s audience chamber opened, and a dragon of a man stepped through, his strides long and powerful. He was tall, broad, and muscled, easily dwarfing Darken, who was suddenly grateful for the height granted him by the dais his throne rested on. Eric the Northman wore black leather armor, etched in complicated whirling patterns, all topped with a full length fur cloak that Darken suspected was wolf. His blond hair was tied back in a leather thong, his boots rose up to the thigh, and there was no evidence that he carried a sword, or weapon of any kind. But then, being what he was, Eric the Northman wouldn’t need to.

“So this is the fabled Companion of Death. It seems your legend is somewhat exaggerated. I had expected you to be a bit taller and clothed in the skin of a shadrin you’d slain,” Darken greeted the giant, the corners of his lips twitching.

Eric bowed, his golden hair falling to one side of his neck before he straightened. “Whether my legend is exaggerated is something you must decide for yourself… Lord Rahl.”

Piercing blue eyes met piercing blue eyes in a brief staring match so intense Darken felt the downy hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

“You know why I have come,” Eric continued.

“Yes, I know why you are here, Eric.” Darken said the pale Northman’s name with the same inflection with which Eric had pronounced his own. He was not sure if it was contempt or something… else. “I welcome you, Eric the Northman, to D’Hara and the People’s Palace.” Darken stood, elegantly descending the steps of his throne dais to hold out the hand that wore the Rahl Crest ring for Eric to kiss.

Eric left Darken’s hand hanging in the air. “I will not swear to you, Darken Rahl, and neither will my people. I have one purpose here: to warn you away from my territory. The next D’Haran quad that crosses into our land shall meet their deaths at the teeth of the Dark Folk. And then,” Eric smiled congenially, casually, a set of fangs dropping down to curve wickedly over his lips, “we’ll come for you.”

Entranced, Darken studied the fangs framed by Eric’s shapely lips, even going so far as to reach up with one finger.

Eric grabbed his wrist in a grip that bruised, and Darken looked up into his eyes. “So the tales are true,” Darken said, stubbornly pulling his arm from Eric’s grasp, tracing Eric’s lips with his fingers, and touching the fangs. “You are the Nosferatu, the Life Drinkers, the Lost Souls.”

Eric nipped at Darken’s finger, drawing a single bead of bright red blood, then licking it away. When Darken moaned, leaving his finger in Eric’s mouth, Eric raised his brow in surprise.

Darken carefully hid his triumph.

“Most humans fear us.”

“I am not most humans. I am Lord Rahl,” was Darken’s only answer. “I propose an alliance between our peoples, Eric,” Darken purred as he ran his bloodied fingertip over Eric’s lips, distracting the blond being with lust for blood and sex. “Together, we can crush the remnants of resistance in the other kingdoms of the Midlands. You shall rule the night, and I the day.”

“Tempting,” Eric breathed, taking a step closer to Darken, their bodies a hair’s breadth apart. He sucked Darken’s finger into his mouth, tongue running over Darken’s skin. Darken closed his eyes, uttering a low rumble of satisfaction.

Without warning, too fast for Darken to register what was happening, Eric’s arms were around Darken, their hard bodies pressed together. Darken could feel Eric’s arousal pressed against his own, and knew that it was his royal blood that aroused the Northman so. As for himself, it was the feeling of Eric’s tongue on his skin, the way he suckled at Darken’s finger bringing to mind another thing he would very much like Eric to do with his mouth.

A deeper part of Darken that he would not consciously recognize liked that this man was bigger than he, physically stronger, a force that could dash him on the rocks of death.

Eric released Darken’s finger and tilted Darken back, burying one large hand in his hair and bending to lightly run fang over the delicate flesh beneath Darken’s chin. Darken could feel hot breath on his skin as Eric asked in a sensual whisper, “Then perhaps an exchange of blood, to seal our alliance. There is power in blood, Lord Rahl.”

“Yes,” Darken gasped, voice thick with lust, and he pressed his neck to Eric’s teeth, eager to feel the sting of the bite, the hot warmth of his blood spilling from his veins. Eric drank, and Darken writhed, unashamedly bucking against Eric’s thigh, fingers searching for and finding the hard bulge of Eric’s erection under the black leather of his armor.

Eric growled at the contact, then raised his face, streaked with Darken’s blood, and tore at his own wrist, holding it to Darken’s lips. “Drink,” he said, sounding barely human.

And Darken drank, his erection throbbing with each swallow of the coppery fire. The world became sharper, and brighter, and darker. Blood ran down Darken’s chin to smear on his chest and soak into his robes, but it didn’t matter.

It was why his robes were red.

Finally Eric pulled away, smirking and feral in his success. “You are a fool, Darken Rahl, and now you are mine,” he spat. “My human, my servant, _mine_. Once my blood passed your lips, D’Hara fell to the Dark Folk.”

Darken smiled indulgently, then laughed a self-assured laugh.

He watched the victory fade from Eric’s eyes.

“I cannot bespell you. I feel the bond forming but it is… _No_. How?”

“ _Kneel_ ,” Darken commanded, his voice echoing in the chamber.

Eric struggled, then knelt, his fangs bared in a grimace.

Darken circled him, admiring him, studying him, the red train of his robes swirling around the two of them like a trail of blood. “It is as you said, Eric,” Darken pronounced the name almost lovingly. “In blood, there is power. I know well that you sought to control me, to bend me to your will through the blood bond of the Nosferatu. But there is something you did not count upon, O Companion of Death.” Darken stroked Eric’s cheek, “I am a blood mage bound to the Keeper. And you… you are _mine_.”

Darken kissed him, pleased when Eric snarled.


End file.
